


Water Washes Away All Things

by ContreParry



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:14:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27261031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ContreParry/pseuds/ContreParry
Summary: Anders noticed that there’s something odd about Fenris- namely, Fenris can’t swim. So who better to teach him than Anders, whose numerous escape attempts included several marathons across Lake Calenhad? He’s only looking out for the well-being of the group, after all! But as he teaches Fenris how to swim, Anders learns a little more about his companion, and himself, in the process.
Relationships: Anders/Fenris (Dragon Age)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 119





	Water Washes Away All Things

**Author's Note:**

> I started this based off a prompt I got on my tumblr, and then I kept on writing. So while it's super cold and snowing outside, please enjoy this fic about summer, swimming, and romance. Thanks for reading!

Anders was a keen observer. You had to be when you were him: shepherd, Circle Mage, runaway, apostate, Warden, Healer- he was all these things once and always. To be good at any of them meant paying attention to your surroundings and the people in them. So he knew all of Varric’s little tells, from the slight tightening in his jaw that signaled his distress to the way he hummed to calm and center himself. He knew Isabela’s touchiness was part flirtation, part true affection- because her way of caring was through a pinch or a squeeze or a brief kiss on the cheek. He knew Hawke had a shoulder injury that never quite healed right and to keep an eye on it when she flagged in battle. He knew Merrill had terrible headaches and always supplied a bit of chamomile for her aches when her late night studies stretched into dawn. He knew Sebastian’s knees were not in the finest of shape, and while he loathed that Justice wouldn’t let him make snide commentary (“Let him have his devotion if nothing else, Anders, do not be cruel.”), he supplied a little bit of willow bark tea (and a few light comments, like “The Maker won’t mind if you use a pillow, y’know.”). Aveline had trouble sleeping, so Anders was always willing to give her a bit of lavender and chamomile in a sachet and as a tea (“If nothing else the smell is soothing. It can’t hurt.”). Anders did what he could to care for his companions, as they cared for him, so he watched and kept careful notes of what they needed.

So it was obvious, at least to him, that Fenris did not know how to swim. All the signs were there! Fenris shied away from the water, always putting someone or something between him and the dark depths beyond the shore. He never joined them in swimming, either in the lakes they journeyed to or the ocean. He stayed on the shore, resting in the shade or the sun, and never ventured out. Anders was fairly certain he had never seen Fenris even dip a toe into water- like a cat, an oversized, half-starved, brute of a tom-cat. The image could almost be charming, but this was Fenris. The only combination more contradictory than cats and water was him and Fenris, but Anders bit down hard on his dislike of the man and considered the facts. He was a rational man, after all, and his observations led him to one final conclusion: Fenris could not swim.

There was nothing else to be done, Anders thought grimly. Someone would have to teach him and, as no one else either noticed or offered their assistance, it came down to him. Justice clamoring in his head about the injustice of leaving a companion helpless and unknowing didn’t ease Anders’ conscious at all, but it helped him solidify his decision. They lived in Kirkwall, a port city. They constantly engaged in battle on the nearby beaches. There was always some lake or stream or river they crossed when they journeyed up to Sundermount. Frankly speaking it was a miracle that Fenris hadn’t slipped and drowned in water, considering how they were all but surrounded by it! Anders wasn’t fond of Fenris, but he wasn’t going to stand by and let the man drown! He would simply have to teach Fenris how to swim.

Ah, if only that were so simple!

“Let us hope he won’t take offense, Justice,” Anders muttered as he raised his hand and knocked against Fenris’ door. “If he tears out my heart you’re dying with me.”

Justice grumbled something that felt like an irritated scolding. His thought whispered across Anders’ mind- “He needs our help, do not tease him.” Anders snorted. As if he would tease a man for not knowing how to swim! Even he would not be so petty, and Anders knew he was the king of pettiness. So as he waited for Fenris to answer the door he rehearsed what he was going to say.

“Hello, Fenris. Before you kick me off your doorstep on this fine, humid evening, do remember that you owe me for patching up your twisted ankle last week,” Anders muttered. “And Hawke will be quite put out if you murder the overworked and under appreciated healer.” He took a deep breath and tried to think of a diplomatic way to bring up the topic of swimming lessons.

“So, I’ve noticed something odd- not odd, but more concerning, and I have to know- not have, fine Justice, I won’t demand he tell us- I would like to know, that is- Andraste’s Arse this is harder than I thought it would be!” Anders groaned, resting his palm against his forehead. Standing outside of Fenris’ door like an idiot was just how he wanted to spend this late summer evening. Delightful!

“In any case, I thought I would drop by and ask you a question,” Anders continued. This was just a practice conversation with a door, after all! It wasn’t as if Fenris was actually listening to him right now!

“If you are done monologuing in front of my door, Mage, I would like to go inside. You may follow me, if you choose to,” Fenris’ voice came from behind him. It sounded as dry as freshly laundered cotton sheets hanging in the summer sunshine. Crisp, clean, and a little bit stiff where it was draped over the line. Anders slowly turned around and did his best to be charming. Which was easy, of course. He was always charming.

“Fenris! A surprise to see you. Outside. Tonight,” Anders commented, looking at the basket Fenris was carrying over his arm. His bare arm. No gauntlets or armor in sight, just a simple dagger strapped to the belt at his waist. Fenris looked surprisingly non-threatening, dressed in a simple sleeveless tunic and leggings and holding a wicker basket full of bread and fruit. Anders could almost call him… pleasant to look on. But he wouldn’t, because he liked having his organs in their proper place. So he said nothing at all.

“Yes. I live here,” Fenris said slowly. “I shop at these hours.” He looked at Anders with suspicion, which, fair enough. It wasn’t as if they actively chose to be in each other’s company without Hawke or Varric to serve as a buffer. What he wouldn’t give for that buffer right now, Anders thought as Fenris continued to stare at him with his unnerving eyes. Green, like olives. Like an angry cat ready to pounce on its latest snack.

“Ah. Fellow night owl, I see,” Anders replied weakly. Fenris rolled his eyes and stepped forward.

“Inside. You may say what you will _there_ ,” Fenris ordered, and Anders hastily moved aside when Fenris stalked past him and unlocked his door with a great big iron key. Once inside the darkened foyer Fenris continued walking, stomping past his dining hall and grand staircase into a back room that Anders had never been in before. He hesitantly followed, keeping a healthy distance between him and Fenris in case Fenris changed his mind and shooed him out. Or worse. Justice jumped on that stray thought and berated Anders fiercely: unkind, unfair, unjust, give the elf a chance-

“If you plan to lurk in the doorway like a gruesome specter in one of Varric’s novels, you can at least help me put away my groceries,” Fenris said, and Anders assumed that was as good an invitation as any. Fenris handed him a bag of potatoes and pointed to a cabinet in the corner as he set to work lighting candles and lamps hanging on hooks. As the room lightened, Anders noticed that it was surprisingly clean and well-maintained. It could almost be called domestic, but Anders didn’t know if that was due to Fenris being out of his armor or Anders barely remembering what a home ought to look like.

“Ask your question,” Fenris ordered as Anders set the potatoes on a shelf. Anders wanted to say something about Fenris being awfully demanding, but he decided against it. He did enter the man’s house, after all. He had a right to know what Anders wanted with him.

“It’s a bit... personal. Personal for you, that is. If you’re offended or insulted you really don’t have to answer,” Anders began. “And I won’t take any offense either. Just so we’re clear-“

“You’re stalling,” Fenris observed quietly.

“I’m getting to it! Fenris,” Anders took a deep breath and just decided to ask. “Can you swim?”

Silence. Then-

“No,” Fenris said, the word short and curt. He practically spit it out of his mouth like a curse.

“Oh,” Anders replied. “Would you like to learn?” He was planning to build up to that question, but it fell out of his mouth like a bunch of marbles spilling out of a pouch. And now the question lay scattered between them, an offer that couldn’t be taken back or easily denied 

“What?”

“To learn how to swim. Do you want to? Because I can teach you,” Anders clarified, already bracing himself for Fenris to shout at him. “We live next to the ocean, so it’s a useful skill to have. And it won’t take too long- a few lessons and you’ll at least be able to float and doggy-paddle. With your physical ability? You’ll do just fine.”

Fenris was silent, and Anders took the opportunity to get a good look at the man. He was putting apples in a bowl one at a time, the yellow-pink skin of the apples gleaming golden in the candlelight. He was treating the apples like they were made of gold, arranging them like they were precious artifacts, setting them up as if they were for display and not eating.

“Are you trying to convince me this is a good idea, or are you trying to convince yourself?” Fenris asked, pulling Anders from his thoughts.

“A bit of both, to be honest,” Anders mumbled. “It was Justice’s idea.” It was also a little bit his as well- it seemed strange to know that someone in their ragtag band of followers possessed such a disadvantage and to do nothing about it. Even if it was Fenris, who hated them both. They might not like each other much (or at all), but Anders couldn’t just let this go. It was dangerous to not know how to swim, and not just to Fenris. If he fell in and someone tried to rescue him, they’d be in as much danger as him! Fenris was strong, after all. In his panic he could easily overpower any one of them and drown them both. No, Anders couldn’t leave this alone.

“Ah,” Fenris sighed, and returned to arranging the apples in a bowl as Anders waited for something. His doom? It seemed likely as the silence stretched on between them. Anders extrapolated all sorts of scenarios while he waited. Most of them were violent and ended in him losing at least a limb.

“Did Hawke set you to this?” Fenris finally asked. He sounded calm and conversational, as if they were discussing something as banal as the weather.

“No. But Hawke’s probably a bit preoccupied with-“ Anders gestured vaguely towards the back door of the kitchen and the windows that overlooked the garden outside. “You know. All of Kirkwall and shit. So if she has noticed she hasn’t said anything, at least not to me.”

“You have a point,” Fenris said before turning his gaze onto Anders. He didn’t look angry, which Anders took as a good sign.

“And you are not joking,” Fenris observed quietly. “You’re serious.”

“Yes!” Anders retorted, a little bit insulted. “I joke about plenty of things, it’s true, and we aren’t exactly friends-“

“An understatement,” Fenris dryly observed.

“Shush. We’re… reluctant allies. Friends of Hawke, if you will. But all that aside, I wouldn’t tease you about not being able to swim! Maker’s Ballsack, if I were a few years younger and came into my magic earlier, I wouldn’t know how to swim either!” Anders explained. “It’s hardly something to be ashamed of, Fenris!”

Fenris took a ragged breath. Breathed out slowly. Breathed in again, but steadier this time. He had stopped putting apples in the bowl and had moved on to putting away citrus fruits, lemons and oranges nestled between the golden apples like little round birds. His hands moved swiftly, confidently, as he spoke.

“It… I cannot say if I can swim or not,” Fenris replied. “If I possessed that ability it was lost when I was given my markings. And then I never learned.”

“Right,” Anders said, feeling a little uncomfortable. He always did whenever the subject of the lyrium markings and Fenris’ memory came up. It was a little too like Tranquility, but instead of locking away emotions it seemed that whatever freakish ritual Fenris underwent erased his memories. He didn’t like thinking that a Mage would do that to someone, didn’t like knowing that the dark tales about Tevinter weren’t all Chantry propaganda after all, so Anders tried not to think about it at all. But he’d promised Justice, and now Fenris, that he would be available for swimming lessons. He’d have to at least acknowledge that Fenris’ past was, well, real.

“If you don’t want to learn now, or if you’re uncomfortable with me as a teacher, I can ask someone else to teach you,” Anders offered. “Isabela would be happy to, I’m sure.”

“No,” Fenris said, and Anders figured Fenris would refuse his offer because of course he would, it was Fenris! “You’ll… it is… kind of you to offer. If you are willing to teach, I am willing to learn.”

“Yes right, of course you wouldn’t- wait, what?” Anders realized that Fenris hadn’t… refused his offer. No, he did the opposite! And he was polite about it as well! Would wonders ever cease?

“I accept your offer. Swimming is a useful skill to possess. When should we begin?” Fenris asked, once again sounding composed and proper in a way that made Anders feel a little like a fumbling fool.

“What about tomorrow, then? The good weather should hold for the week. We can head to the bay. The currents are weak and there aren’t too many people about,” Anders offered. “Meet you in front of Hawke’s, at the Chantry call for noon prayers?”

“Very well. I will see you then,” Fenris replied. When he said nothing else, Anders cleared his throat and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. How did you end an almost pleasant conversation with your not-enemy, certainly not a friend?

“I… well. Until tomorrow, I suppose,” Anders said, feeling all the more foolish when Fenris turned his eyes on him and stared. So Anders stepped away from the warm, almost welcoming kitchen and navigated his way through the foreboding hall and out the front door of Fenris’ mansion. 

He stood on the darkened stoop and stared out at the city and the ocean beyond. The water and sky bled into each other, each a darkness so black Anders couldn’t tell where the ocean ended and the night began. Anders breathed in the salty air and leaned against the wall for just a moment, his knees giving out beneath him. He let himself rest against the pale white stucco, and the warmth of the summer sun leaching into his tired bones. 

“That went better than expected, don’t you think?” Anders murmured, and Justice’s pleased little hum tickled as it coursed through him.

-

The call for afternoon Chantry services rang through the courtyard and Anders wondered, not for the first time, if he had made a terrible mistake. Perhaps he dreamed the events of the previous evening up: he had a tendency to daydream, after all, and the image of Fenris out of his armor and performing tasks as mundane as shopping for food had to be a figment of his imagination. But it may not have been a dream, so Anders waited by the fountain in the middle of the courtyard. He waited for Fenris and called himself a hundred different kinds of fool as he waited.

“You offered in good faith, it’s not your fault if he changes his mind,” Anders reminded himself. “He’s allowed to do that, you know. Free will and all.” It wasn’t as if Fenris was late. No, Anders was only obscenely early, spurred by Justice and a desire to escape the hot, humid confines of the clinic for a few hours. Getting to swim in the cool ocean would be worth dealing with Fenris’ terrible attitude for the rest of the afternoon. Anders could already feel the gentle current weave through his hair and tug at his limbs, feel the cool rush of water on his heated skin, taste salt on his lips-

“You’re here,” a voice interrupted Anders’ daydreaming, and he nearly jumped out of his skin as he whirled around to face Fenris. Fenris looked slightly up at him and raised one of his thick, dark eyebrows in a look that was both puzzled and disdainful all at once. How did a man pack all those emotions into one eyebrow lift, Anders wondered. Also, when had he learned to read the many moods of Fenris’ eyebrows? Imagination, Anders told himself firmly. Just his imagination.

“Fenris. It’s you,” Anders finally said when the staring continued. He was dressed casually again, knife strapped to his waist and sleeveless tunic buttoned up to the base of his throat. It was strange to see Fenris out of his armor. The gauntlets and breastplate seemed so much a part of him, along with the massive two handed sword he carried, that he looked almost naked without them.

“Yes. Were you expecting someone else?” Fenris retorted, and Anders wondered if he was just imagining the little lilt of amusement in Fenris’ voice. He had always sounded so angry, so curt and sharp with him, but there was a playfulness to Fenris’ question that made Anders take pause.

“No! I, uh,” Anders sighed, but the sigh turned into a weak, sheepish laugh. “Wasn’t sure you’d come. I mean, I thought you might have reconsidered, and- well, it hardly matters. You’re here! For swimming lessons.” It seemed impossible, but Fenris was standing before him with a rucksack on his back, looking more relaxed than Anders had ever seen him before. Imagination, Anders said. Fenris was being courteous and that was all. Anders needed to stop reading into his every gesture and word! They were being reluctant allies. Friends of Hawke. And a friend of Hawke didn’t let another Friend of Hawke drown because they didn’t know how to swim.

“You were very convincing,” Fenris replied. “Shall we go?”

Their walk to the beach was quiet and not nearly as awkward as Anders feared it might be. It was almost companionable. They were just two men headed out for a swim. Without Fenris’ sword and Anders’ staff, without the gear that always distinguished them, they could be anyone. Anyone at all. Anders found the thought to be freeing- no responsibilities, no demands. He only had one task today, to teach Fenris how to swim. Well, Anders amended as his feet sunk into the soft, pale sand of the beach, it might take a little longer than one day to teach a man how to swim. Not that Fenris wasn’t capable, of course not, but Anders didn’t want to rush things. It might break this tenuous peace between them. Anders dropped his own pack on the ground and began to strip out of his boots, rolling down his thin, worn woolen socks and tucked them into his boots.

“What are you doing?” Fenris asked. He had placed his own rucksack on the ground, but he kept his distance from Anders. Cautious, but curious. And to think, yesterday afternoon Anders would have thought Fenris’ only expressions were anger, rage, and disgust! What a difference a day made!

“What? D’you think I’m going to swim in my boots and jacket?” Anders laughed at Fenris’ bemused expression and began to unbuckle his jacket, shucking it off and dropping it to the sand. He started with the ties of his trousers, and Fenris made a strange little huff of a sigh before turning his head away.

“Must you shed all your clothes?” Fenris sighed.

“I’m just stripping down to my smallclothes, Maker’s Balls! You act as if you haven’t seen me bare!” Anders was going to choke on the laughter he was holding in. They had spent years in each other’s company, and while Anders tried to respect his fellow companion’s privacy he knew what Fenris looked like under his armor and leggings. He’d patched the man up enough times to know that the lyrium markings covered every part of his body! Fine, Anders amended. He knew that Fenris’ markings were everywhere on his body, and Anders could make an educated estimate of where they continued to weave and wind over muscle and skin. The point was that there was no need for modesty, not between them! It was a little ridiculous at their age!

Don’t insult Fenris, Anders sternly told himself. You are here to teach him how to swim and it would be rude to laugh. Also Fenris was fully capable of murdering him with his bare hands. Best not to set him off.

“Afraid you’ll find me devastatingly attractive and you won’t be able to argue with me anymore?” Anders teased. He watched Fenris roll his eyes and look annoyed, but then something _shifted_ on his face. His expression went soft- softer than usual, at least for Fenris. His olive green eyes lit up, and his mouth turned up into the slightest of smiles. It was subtle, very subtle, but Fenris was _amused_! Anders would have fallen over in surprise, but then Fenris opened his mouth and spoke and Anders went silent from the shock.

“Perhaps I am worried that you will blind me when your pasty skin reflects the sun,” Fenris retorted. Anders couldn’t help himself. He laughed, laughed long and hard until his laughter bounced off the cliffs and echoed through the bay.

“Andraste’s Tits, Fenris! I think that’s the first joke you’ve told!” Anders exclaimed. “And Hawke and the others missed it!”

“I have a sense of humor, you know,” Fenris muttered, but Anders was not fooled by the harsh words or tone. He was an observant man, after all, and now he knew some of Fenris’ tells. He saw the relaxed shoulders, observed the faint smile, watched as his eyes sparkled in the sun. This was Fenris at ease, and Anders was going to commit the sight to memory and hold onto it. Fenris wasn’t all tension and rage, and Anders felt like an absolute idiot for not realizing that sooner.

Ah well. He would make up for his mistake by teaching Fenris how to swim. Not as an obligation or a chore, no, but as… as a companion and ally. Anders dropped his trousers and pulled his shirt up and over his head, then dumped it on the sand.

“Right. We’ll start with wading,” he declared, and if Fenris was nervous he didn’t show it. He merely stripped down to his leggings and followed Anders out into the water, hissing slightly at the shock of cool water on bare skin. The waves lapped gently against Anders’ bare calves, urging him to go deeper, further, swim until the land was just a speck on the horizon, but Anders knew better. He looked over at Fenris, who was staring down at the clear blue water. Another reason to have these lessons away from the city and the docks, Anders thought with a grin. The water here was far cleaner.

“How are you feeling?” Anders asked, and Fenris shrugged. There was a tightness to his jaw, however, that suggested that Fenris wasn’t as comfortable as he was pretending to be. He glared at the water like it was an enemy to be vanquished, and that, Anders realized, would have to change. Maker grant him the strength and patience to see that through!

“First lesson,” Anders declared. “You’re going to learn how to float.”

“Float,” Fenris said flatly. “Not swim.”

“I’m no swordsman, but I’m sure you don’t start training with sharpened steel blades. We’ll wade out further and start with floating,” Anders decided. Fenris hesitated, staring out at the water that lay ahead, and there was that tightening of the jaw and the shadows in his eyes again. Anders would have to tread carefully here.

“I won’t let you drown, Fenris,” Anders promised. “You have my word.”

“... very well,” Fenris muttered, and he strode forwards until the water reached his waist. His muscles were tense, his expression grim, and the cast to his face was decidedly ashen, but Fenris waded into deeper waters and waited for Anders.

“He trusts us,” Justice’s voice whispered through his thoughts, and Anders was struck momentarily dumb by the reality of Justice’s words. Fenris trusted them. Trusted him. Maybe not in all things, but with his life? With his safety? Yes. It shouldn’t have meant much in the grand scheme of things, but it did. It _did_.

“I’ll have my hands under you, I promise. As soon as you start sinking I’ll haul you back up to your feet,” Anders promised. “So I’m going to need you to lean back and lift your legs.”

“What?”

“I’m going to help you float on your back. Like a…” Anders struggled to find a metaphor, or even words to describe what he wanted Fenris to do. He couldn’t remember how he first learned how to swim, he just… did. And the swimming lessons at Kinloch were cut short when Anders took his chance and bolted, cutting through the icy waters of Lake Calenhad like a fish. But he promised that he would teach Fenris how to swim, so he would.

“You won’t sink,” Anders finished lamely. “I’ll make sure you don’t.” Though Fenris glowered at him balefully, he sank into the water, stretching out before Anders, pale hair floating like strands of moonlight spun into silk-

Then Fenris flung himself out of the water and back to his feet, water dripping from his body and hair as he frantically regained his footing, his eyes flashing from terror to rage in an instant as he turned on Anders.

“I was sinking, M- Anders!” Fenris exclaimed.

“I had my hands under you!” Anders protested, and Fenris made a strange little snort of disgust that seemed to come from deep within his chest.

“You are a walking skeleton! You think you can hold me up?” he asked pointedly, staring at Anders and judging him, which set Anders completely on edge. He was no stranger to being looked at. Normally he liked drawing attention to himself! But when Fenris was looking at him like that, Anders couldn’t help but wish he was a little younger, a little more like he was before he and Justice joined. He may have been a little more selfish then, but Anders couldn’t deny that he took more care with his appearance in that stage of his life.

“Oh? You do know I was a Warden, right? I’m plenty capable of lifting you up!” Anders retorted, and while his temper flared (raged, really), Anders clenched his fist tightly until the blunt ends of his nails dug into the skin of his palm. The pain distracted him from the anger just long enough to recognize that Fenris wasn’t trying to pick a fight, at least this time. He was scared and lashing out. It was perfectly reasonable. Anders just had to regain his composure and try again.

“I promise, Fenris. I won’t let you drown. If for no other reason than Hawke would drown me,” Anders joked, and he tried to keep his voice calm and soft.

“And I am stronger than I look. I won’t let you drown. Do you want to try again?” He tried to aim for patience. He tried to be calm. He channeled Enchanter Wynne at her gentlest, when all the little Circle apprentices were sick in bed with fevers and she made sure they drank their broth and medicine before bedtime. And something seemed to connect with Fenris. The tenseness in his shoulders eased. Not much, but enough for Anders to know that he wouldn’t storm back to the shore, gather his things, and leave.

“Fine,” Fenris said, his voice hoarse and accent turning the word sharp in his mouth. “I apologize.”

“Don’t. You’re hardly the first person to panic when learning to swim. You certainly won’t be the last,” Anders promised, and he hesitantly placed his hand against Fenris’ back. Fenris tensed again, and Anders felt the sharp intake of breath under his palm.

“I’m keeping my hand here so you know I’m holding on to you,” Anders explained. “Does it help?”

“... marginally,” Fenris grumbled. “You’ll keep your word?” He looked up at Anders cautiously, and buried under the calm veneer Anders saw fear in those big green eyes. For possibly the first time ever in their acquaintance Anders wanted to give the man a hug. But that would certainly not help matters, would it? Anders was suddenly all too aware of Fenris’ skin, wet and sun-warmed, underneath his palm, his shallow breathing, the rapid, but steady beating of his heart, the constant low hum of lyrium in his skin-

“I’ll keep my word,” Anders promised, pushing the words out of his suddenly dry mouth. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” Fenris replied, and there was a brief flash of what Anders later categorized as Pure Mischief in Fenris’ eyes before he dropped back. Fell. And splashed into the water as Anders scrambled to hold onto him. But he did it, and Fenris was floating, sinking, floating again, supported by Anders’ hands. Fenris lifted his head up, pale hair sodden and stuck to his face.

“Spread your limbs out a little,” Anders ordered. “Imagine that you’re a leaf and- there we go!” Fenris was floating on his own. Anders felt his weightlessness underneath his fingers, his palms. He could drop his hands now and Fenris would continue to float, eyes closed and body relaxed.

“If you let go I will strangle you,” Fenris threatened, so Anders remained where he was, hands underneath Fenris’ back.

“You’ve got it,” Anders said encouragingly. “Really, you don’t need me to keep you up.”

“Hmmm,” was Fenris’ response. And so it continued for the next hour, for the rest of the lesson, until Fenris was floating in the water and staring up into the sky with Anders floating nearby. And when the sun sank lower in the sky and their fingers and toes were as wrinkled as dried fruits, they waded back to shore together. They sat in the late afternoon sunlight and shared rations from Fenris’ pack: a crusty loaf of bread, apples, and, strangely enough, oranges.

“How’d you get a hold of these?” Anders asked, and Fenris shrugged.

“The mansion next to mine has an orangery. I am friends with the gardener. He gave me some in trade,” he explained, and Anders was baffled. Stunned. Fenris talked to people? Fenris had friends beyond their association? It sounded foolish, supremely foolish, to think that Fenris’ life was solely contained to his relationship with Hawke and her crew, but Anders had thought that was the case. Or, to be more accurate, he hadn’t cared enough for Fenris to take notice of him outside of their encounters.

“For what?” Anders pried, curiosity and shame pushing him forward. What did Fenris do when he wasn’t with Hawke? Wasn’t with him? It was growing ever clearer that Fenris didn’t just sit in his mansion to drink and brood- he _did_ things. Experienced life. Anders was… he just wanted to know what the man got up to, that was all!

“... I had lily bulbs he wanted, and I no longer grow lilies,” Fenris replied shortly, and Anders knew when to let things lie. None of them much cared for lilies now, not after Hawke’s mother was murdered (and oh, the guilt, the _guilt_ that it ended up being a Mage after all, that Anders hadn’t believed in it, that perhaps he could have done something to stop it if he wasn’t so proud-).

“You garden?” Anders asked instead, because Fenris and gardening seemed incongruous, like oil and water, him and Fenris.

“I find it meditative,” Fenris explained cautiously, as if he feared Anders’ reaction. But he needn’t worry. Anders was amused, certainly, but he was also in awe- there were so many little things he pushed aside about Fenris, little things that he ignored because it was Fenris and he didn’t have time to worry or think about the man when there was so much to do, but now. Now there was too much for him to know, to learn, and Anders cursed himself for letting his own stupid arrogance and pride keep him clueless as to how interesting Fenris could be when they weren’t throwing snarky remarks back and forth at each other.

“You garden and cook, considering that the kitchen in the back of your home is clean and obviously used,” Anders commented. “And you can sing, play the lute reasonably well-“

“You hardly know what good lute playing is, Anders, I pluck and muddle my way through music-“ Fenris interrupted, but Anders held up his hand, sticky with orange pulp and juice, to silence him.

“I’m not finished! You’re fluent in several languages, and you’re a swordsman without peer! Do try and leave some skills for the rest of us, Fenris!” Anders said, a laugh already bubbling up inside of him, and he didn’t know if the joy came from witnessing Fenris’ disgruntled expression or feeling Justice’s own quiet delight that Fenris had managed to forge a life for himself outside of the one he was molded for in Tevinter.

“I have,” Fenris said, his tone dry. “I don’t know how to swim.”

-

The first lesson gave way to second, and soon a third and forth, until they met up nearly every week during the summer if there was not some other conflict- an engagement with Hawke, bad weather, or a day in the clinic that could not be missed. Otherwise they met in the Hightown plaza and made their way to one of the several swimming spots Anders marked out for them- all within an hour’s walk from the city gates, all places that were relatively safe (there was one notable incident with an irritable eel that nibbled at their toes), and all mostly private. And when they reached the water and were ready, Anders gave Fenris whatever lesson he wanted for the day.

Somehow the lessons became easier and grew more complex all at once, a contradictory mess of feelings that Anders couldn’t hope to untangle. Justice didn’t make it any easier- he seemed as baffled by Anders’ feelings as Anders was, and he didn’t have the advantage of being Anders and knowing his emotions. But these feelings! Oh, these feelings were not so easy to untangle and read.

First was the surprise. Spending time with Fenris was surprisingly pleasant. Anders couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed so much as when he informed Fenris that he was going to teach him how to swim like a frog.

(“Not a fish?” Fenris asked, and Anders snorted.

“Do fish have legs, Fenris?” he retorted.

“Perhaps they do, Anders. Have you seen every fish that swims?” Fenris asked cheekily. Anders cackled at his smug expression until he couldn’t breathe.)

That was only one moment of one day, and Anders couldn’t help but long for more of those easy moments of companionship between them. And that was where the lessons became… complicated. Not because of Fenris, no, never Fenris. He was a fast learner, an _eager_ pupil, someone who was actively engaged and tried his best and built upon his knowledge. Anders enjoyed teaching him. He enjoyed how quickly Fenris picked up on things, how eager he was to try new ideas (even if he hated the idea of diving underwater at first). 

No. The problem did not lie in Fenris. It lay in Anders. He was enjoying Fenris’ company far too much, loving every second he witnessed a side of the man that he hadn’t known existed before. He enjoyed being around Fenris, far more than he should. He hadn’t realized the man had a sense of humor (dry as an Anderfells winter, yes, but he cracked jokes constantly). Anders didn’t know that Fenris gardened, that he was the one behind the bounty of fresh fruits and vegetables that made their way to the lower quarters of the city. Fenris was generous, considerate, protective, and unbearably kind under his gruff exterior. Anders enjoyed spending time with him. Enjoyed his company. _Liked_ him.

Anders hadn’t anticipated this, hadn’t thought that he would learn how _good_ Fenris was, and he did not guard himself properly from these feelings of fondness. Anders didn’t think he would admire Fenris at all, let alone hold him in high regard. He didn’t expect to _like_ him, but he did. Being around Fenris was pleasant and soothing, just like floating on top of the ocean with the sun beating down on his skin. For those brief moments it felt as if the world was washed away by the salty waves, and there was nothing but him, Fenris, and the sea.

Anders wished all their days could pass so peacefully.

“It’s funny,” Anders remarked as they sat together on the shores of a small lake at the base of Sundermount. They were supposed to be foraging, but the weather was hot and humid and the waters so cool and inviting that they decided to take a short swim as Anders coached Fenris through diving (“Yes, I know jumping in head first is unnatural, but we see Hawke do it on the daily.”)

“What is?” Fenris asked. He was stretched out on the sand like a slumbering cat, back exposed, muscles relaxed, eyes focused on the still waters of the lake.

“This, I suppose. Us getting along,” Anders replied, content to watch Fenris watch the lake. “Never thought it was possible.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth he began second guessing them. They were getting on, yes, and Anders enjoyed Fenris’ company, but that didn’t mean Fenris felt similarly. Even with Justice’s stern voice clanged in his mind like a brass bell (“Cease, Anders, you are being unfair to him and to you.”), Anders couldn’t dampen the panic rising within him. He fucked up. He fucked up massively. He fucked up and Fenris was going to take this badly, take offense when none was meant, and their fragile peace would be irreparably broken and-

“It is funny,” Fenris agreed quietly. “I look forward to your lessons, you know.” He looked up at Anders then, green eyes half lidded and sleepy and so… oh. Anders’ heart caught in his throat when Fenris smiled. Oh Maker, he _smiled_! Fenris had dimples, had laugh lines around his eyes, and he was always arrestingly attractive but a smiling Fenris was stunning enough to bring the world to a stand still.

“Ah,” Anders murmured. Feeling oddly bashful, he turned his attention back to the lake.

“It’s strange,” Fenris continued. “Somehow the water feels… familiar.” He rose up on his elbows and stared pensively at the water.

“Do you think you knew how to swim? Before… before?” Anders asked lamely, feeling foolish for the question. But Fenris shrugged and continued to look out at the lake. His heavy sigh made Anders want to take it back, once again, but it was too late. There had to be something he could say to lift the heaviness that loomed over Fenris now.

“It is possible,” Fenris replied. “I do not remember.” There was clear sorrow in his voice, and that sadness pierced Anders’ heart. There had to be something Anders could say to comfort him somehow, and, somewhere in the recesses of Anders’ mind, a thought emerged.

“You might not remember now,” Anders said gently. “But maybe your body does.” Anders watched Fenris’ surprised expression shift into a small, pleased smile and his joy filled his heart.

“You pick up on technique very quickly, you know,” Anders added. “And there are many strange things we don’t know about the mind. There was an elderly Enchanter in Kinloch whose mind was going, but whenever someone played a lullaby and sang the lyrics, for a short time he would recall his youth. Perhaps your mind was cut off from your memories before you underwent the lyrium ritual, but that doesn’t mean the connection was permanently severed. Maybe there are ways to… to try and recover those memories. Maybe swimming helps.” It was a wild guess, a shot in the dark, but Fenris looked thoughtfully up at Anders. Something about having Fenris’ serious, wise eyes on him made Anders flush like a clumsy teenager in front of his first paramour.

“I can look into it,” Anders quickly promised. “Don’t know how successful I’ll be, might ask Merrill for her thoughts, but it’s… it’s a theory.” 

Fenris didn’t seem to mind Anders’ theorizing. “My body remembers…” he murmured thoughtfully, and he turned his attention back to the lake. The silence returned, but it was lighter, more relaxed than before. And Anders couldn’t look away from Fenris’ relaxed, content expression.

“We should get back to camp,” Fenris finally observed. “The others will wonder if we have murdered each other at this rate.”

The problem never lay with Fenris, Anders thought glumly as they trudged back to camp with a pouch full of nuts and berries they managed to quickly forage. No, it was all on him. Anders had grown fond of Fenris, and that fondness was slowly creeping into something akin to wanting, and wanting? Wanting was dangerous. It would be best if he ended things now and kept his distance. Fenris knew how to swim now. He could hold his breath and dive under the water and clumsily kick and use his arms. He didn’t need any more lessons. But Anders wanted to teach him, and Anders was never any good at doing what was best for himself.

So the lessons continued. Anders taught Fenris a variety of kicks, a few ways to slip out of someone’s grasp should they grab hold of him in the water. He taught him how to grab someone who was drowning, flailing, drowning their own rescuer, and how to bring them safely to shore. It meant enduring the exquisite torture of feeling Fenris’ warm, bare skin against his own, but Fenris’ endearing smiles and triumphant laughter at his successes were worth paying any price. And if he dreamed about green eyes and soft kisses, well, Anders knew the difference between dreams and reality. Anders was forged of Anderfellan grit and grim determination. He survived the Blight, the Joining, and merging with Justice. He could survive a simple crush!

Fenris didn’t make it easy, though. Perhaps Anders was merely learning Fenris’ subtle body language, or perhaps Fenris was growing more expressive as they spent time together, but whatever it was Anders was certain that Fenris enjoyed their time together as much as he did. It was all there in the slight raise of his eyebrow when he didn’t believe one of Anders’ stories, or the narrowing of his eyes when Anders challenged him, or the way his mouth would twitch into the faintest of smiles when he was amused and trying to hide it. Anders knew all these expressions and what they meant, and he filed each one away until he was alone in his clinic at midnight, lying on his back in his cot and staring into the dark corners of the ceiling high above him. While he stared into the soft blackness he’d think of Fenris’ many subtle expressions and try to convince himself that there was nothing between them but simple camaraderie. They were friends of Hawke, that was all. Almost friends. But then he’d think of Fenris’ biting sarcasm, his wit, the way he fussed over them all in his quiet but persistent way, Anders knew that Fenris cared for him. He just didn’t care for Anders in the same way Anders had grown to care for him.

That was fine, Anders tried to convince himself as he and Fenris walked along the beach. Heartache was an old companion at this point, and having Fenris’ friendship (almost friendship) was something he could content himself with. Besides, it wasn’t as if they would continue these private lessons for much longer. Autumn was coming to Kirkwall, heralded by the slow turn of the leaves from green to yellow and the crisp bite to the morning air. But the days were as hot as ever, and Fenris had asked (almost begged) for a swimming lesson today. Not that he needed them, Anders thought with no small amount of fond pride. Fenris had taken to the water like a fish. Or a frog. So he watched as Fenris cut through the water. The light on the water gleamed like a jewel, but it paled in comparison to Fenris, all silver and gold as he dove through the waves. It was so easy to swim in the water along with him, letting the water wash away all his worries and cares until it no longer mattered that Anders caught an unfortunate case of feelings. Swimming with Fenris by his side, Anders could almost believe that everything, _everything_ , would turn out right.

“I think you’re better than me at this now,” Anders admitted as he and Fenris waded to shore after an hour of swimming and diving in the bay. Fenris bent down to retrieve a smooth, cream and pink colored shell from the sandy shoreline.

“You were right in saying that swimming is a useful skill,” Fenris remarked, “but you failed to inform me that it was fun.”

“Well, it isn’t as if everyone finds the same activities _fun_ , you know,” Anders retorted, playfully drawing himself up to his full height and haughtily sticking his nose in the air. “For example, Isabela enjoys fleecing me in her card games-“

“And you enjoy being fleeced,” Fenris slyly interrupted, and he laughed at Anders’ mock wounded expression. As Fenris laughed Anders smiled. Making his companions, his friends, laugh brought Anders great joy, but there was something special about Fenris’ laugh. Fenris didn’t laugh often, and it made prying a laugh out of his stern mouth all the more a prize.

“Perhaps I do,” Anders finally replied. “I’m rubbish at cards anyways, and Isabela takes great joy in winning.”

“Our dependable martyr,” Fenris solemnly said, and Anders lightly slapped his arm for the cheeky response. Yet as they sat together on the beach, waves lapping at their feet as they ate orange slices and passed a bottle of lemonade back and forth, Anders found that he couldn’t stop smiling. This was enough, he told himself.

“I hope that these lessons aren’t one of those activities that you endure, Anders,” Fenris added thoughtfully, and if Anders wasn’t already infatuated with the man the gentleness in his voice and concern on his face (subtle, always subtle, but very much there) would have had him plummeting into the very depths of lovesick longing. But he was used to the swoop and flutter of his heart in his chest, so Anders merely smiled and nudged Fenris’ side with his elbow playfully.

“Of course not,” Anders replied. “I was grateful to find a reason to get out of the clinic this summer. Couldn’t spend every moment of it shut in there, would’ve boiled to death in the heat!”

“I’m glad to be an excuse, then,” Fenris said softly, and he smiled out at the sea. Fenris had a good ear, Anders realized, good enough to hear what was being said. And what was being omitted. But sometimes people needed words. If he were brave, truly brave, he’d say something about the longing and the wanting, but Anders wasn’t brave. Clever, resourceful, talented, observant, yes, of course, but never brave. But he had to say something before it fell out when he least expected it.

“I’ve… enjoyed spending time with you, Fenris,” Anders eventually said. “I didn’t think I would. It’s nice to be proven wrong about people, you know?” At the beginning of the summer Anders would have winced at his clumsy confession. He would have believed that Fenris would take offense, but now? Now he knew that Fenris was an excellent listener. So Anders waited. And waited. Fenris eventually stirred, inching slightly closer towards Anders until his bare arm lightly brushed against Anders’.

“I enjoy your company, Anders,” Fenris said simply, and somehow that said everything. Anders sighed and let his hand brush against Fenris’, and was only a little surprised when Fenris took his hand in his own. He did his best not to giggle at Fenris’ light exploratory touches, or swoon when Fenris interlaced their fingers. He was smiling like a fool, but he was allowed to. This was Fenris holding his hand, after all. Anders was allowed to be foolishly happy about it! Fenris didn’t do casual touches. Fenris wasn’t a casual sort of man. He was purposeful. Every little touch and gesture meant something. For someone who kept his thoughts to himself, Fenris always made himself clear through his actions. Anders only had to take the time to learn that.

Now that he had, Fenris’ secret language was just another thing Anders liked about him.

“I have learned a lot from you, about you, these past few months,” Fenris remarked, and Anders nearly melted into the ground in a puddle of joy as Fenris absentmindedly rubbed the pad of his thumb along the back of Anders’ hand.

“When I came to this city I was terrified,” Fenris admitted. “I knew no one. It felt as if I ran headlong into a trap, surrounded by water on three sides and slavers on the fourth. And there was no one to help me. Hawke… having Hawke helped. Knowing that her and her companions, even you, would come to my aid if necessary- it helped.”

“Friends of Hawke,” Anders remarked softly, and Fenris squeezed his hand.

“Friends of Hawke,” Fenris agreed. “But even with that threat gone, the water remained. I felt trapped whenever we battled near it. I thought I hid it well, but you noticed.” He looked pointedly at Anders then, with a sort of awed fondness that was humbling.

“It… I’m good at noticing things. Have to be, to be a good healer,” Anders said, even as Justice fondly scolded him over the sins of false humility.

“I thought you were mocking me, at first. And when you weren’t, I thought it was another… you know,” Fenris gestured vaguely with his other hand. “The martyr thing. But then when I agreed to swimming lessons…”

“I kept my promise?” Anders interrupted.

“More than,” Fenris said with a laugh.

“You’re easy to teach, Fenris,” Anders replied, and Fenris’ smile was as bright as the sun. Anders leaned in closer, as if he could absorb Fenris’ warmth and joy through proximity, and somehow (somehow!) leaning turned to touching, and soon Fenris was cradling Anders’ jaw in his hands and pressing soft kisses to his nose, his cheeks, the corners of his mouth.

“I have a lot to thank you for,” Fenris murmured. “And much to make up for.”

“Please don’t think you owe me kisses because I taught you how to swim, Fenris. My heart can’t take that sort of angst,” Anders begged, and he knew Fenris heard through the joking tone and realized he was quite serious. Fenris pulled away slightly, ever so slightly, just enough that their breaths intermingled. Fenris sighed and pressed his forehead to Anders’.

“I’ve grown to care for you because you cared for me. Without protest or mockery, you saw a wrong and sought to fix it. And beyond that, you gave me hope that I may someday remember my past. You see my worries, everyone’s worries, and seek to make things easier for us all. How could I not care?” Fenris asked. “I am grateful for your lessons, but I love your consideration and kindness.”

Anders tilted his head up and captured Fenris’ lips, kissing the salt and relishing the warm, plush feeling of Fenris’ lips against his own. Fenris’ soft huffs of laughter and pleasured sighs brought a smile to Anders’ face and made his heart soar with delight. He ran his hand down Fenris’ back, gripping his hip and pulling him close. Anders could happily kiss Fenris for ages, but much like diving under the water, they had to breathe. Anders pressed his forehead against Fenris’ and smiled.

“I admire your determination. I know you were frightened, but you still pressed on,” Anders murmured. “You’re a brave man, Fenris. I was going to sit and pine uselessly over you. I never could have imagined this.”

“Then I will be the brave one, and you the kind one,” Fenris replied.

Anders snorted. “As if you’re cruel.”

“As if you’re a coward,” Fenris retorted, and Anders couldn’t help but kiss at the frown etched into Fenris’ forehead. And when there was one kiss, more followed until they were reclined in the sand and holding each other.

“We best get going before we start rolling around in the sand,” Anders sighed regretfully, sand in his hair and heart full of joy. He and Fenris made short work of gathering their possessions before heading back to the city hand in hand. And as they walked, Anders mused over the strangely magical properties of swimming and of water. For water washed away all things- things like fear, anger, resentment, pride- until the world and everyone in it was made anew.

Anders was observant by nature. He noticed every aspect of his companion’s lives to try and make them easier. Now he greedily catalogued Fenris’ smiles, his laughter, and now his kisses, and Anders was glad, to the bottom of his heart, that he left the shallows and ventured into unknown waters when he offered to teach Fenris how to swim.

“I’m going to enjoy learning more about you, Fenris,” Anders remarked, and Fenris smiled. 

“Perhaps we will discover other things my body remembers, hmm?” he suggested. Anders laughed. And all was well.


End file.
